Already Broken
by Lor-tan
Summary: Once, there was a queen. She was a strong queen, always winning every battle she fought. Then, one day, she fell.


"And holy- Whoa, look at that folks! Against all odds, we have our winner!" The referee of the games roars, practically screams, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

What odds were there that I'd lose? My levels were higher, I had type advantage, and I actually had the skill necessary to be here. To be here for years. I methodically destroyed my opponent without even trying, like always. He was weak, I was strong, so the circle of life goes on. I'm better then him, there were no odds.

The only thing that kid had going for him was that little soul wrenching speech he gave before each match, about his poor, sick, lovely mother, and how he was going to win this for her and use the money to buy her medicine since his father couldn't afford it.

Oh, how I hate that speech. How he thinks he has the right to take the attention from me, the big star, the head, who actually deserves to be here. How everyone around just bursts into tears and he just milks it up, and I'm just left wondering if there's something wrong with me for not crying too. How could I, though? I've never cried over my own story, and it's much worse then a sick mother. _I_ had a _druggie_ mother who died of an overdose when I was entering kindergarten. I was withdrawn immediately, and years later paid for my own schooling, and anything else I just learned on my own, like speaking, reading, _battling_. My father kept me shoved into a closet so he didn't have to deal with me. The sweet Persain that practically raised me died protecting me from the bullies that would never leeve me alone. Yet I never cried. Crying is a sign of weakness, and I was never going to be weaker then I already was.

So I'm certainly not going to cry over some sick mother, weep over her like everybody else. Even if I hear whispers about my stone cold heart for weeks after beating that little boy, I'm not going to care.

He shouldn't have been there anyway, his team was pathetically weak, a good twenty levels below mine. Everyone else had let him win out of pity, and instead of admitting it to him had instead claimed that they had been overwhelmed by his courage and heart and will and the amazing friendship between he and his Pokemon and blah blah blah blah blah. Right, like that made a difference. Granted, given the tight bond between he and his team, he was a bit tougher then I'd originally thought, because his Pokemon were genuinely trying to win for him.

Only I have close ties too, if not closer. This team of six, that I've raised and loved and _cherished_ since I first found each of them, is one of the few things I fell in love with. And I like to think it shows. They're all artists on the battle field, artists of electricity, water, grass, psych, darkness, and blood. I hardly have to tell them what to do, they fight on their own most of the time. Swift, officiant methods dripping with rhythm and extra flair for good measure, methods that make the crowds go wild.

So when I hear someone gossiping in the halls about how heartless they are, how they would no doubt spill blood just as gladly without me ordering them to, how they're emotionless and savage in every way... That's the closest I'll ever get to tears. Because they're not. My Jolteon loves cuddles more then anything else because she needs to know I'm there, and my Milotic can't resist a cute baby's face even though she lost her old home because of her last trainer didn't want her around her new babe, and my Gardevior is so graceful he could make a dancer look clumsy, even though he's lame with a poachers bullet in his leg. And my Alakazam needs to be hugged every night because the stars we sleep under remind him of his old home in a forest that was mowed down, and my Umbreon loves sweets and flowers because her old girl that died in a accident did too. And the reason my Sandslash is so violent is because he still has trust issues left from when I first rescued him from the Team Rocket labs, but once her does trust you, all he wants is for you to rub his spikes and love on him.

They are not emotionless, and they're _certainly not savage_. They're trying to make it _work_ , and I am too. So when I'm told to come to the main office and told that I'm banned from the games, told that it's wrong for me to have done my job and beaten that little boy, told that I should have let him go just because it would have been a crowd pleaser... I don't even mention how unfair that would have been to that same crowd to lie to them like that.

And when I'm told to apologize to him, lie and tell him I'm sorry, and to spend that hard earned cash instead on his mother's medicine... I do. I explain to the press that it was wrong of me, and when one of them misinterprets and asks me if I'm admitting I cheated to win, I trample my pride and my conscience too, and tell them yes, because the man with the cue cards who stands in the back is nodding yes.

And now, when I'm walking down the street, hardly able to stand from the pain and heartbreak that will continue to go unseen, people no longer even have the respect to talk behind my back. They walk right up to my face and tell me that I'm a monster for having cheated on such a precious little boy, and that me and my evil Pokemon deserve to die, and I don't even tell them that my dear little Gardevior did just yesterday. Instead I go home and _almost_ cry, and hate myself for being so close to weak, because I don't want to be weak again. Even if that knife in the kitchen is looking pretty inviting right now.

Because when I notice I can no longer afford to buy sweet treats for Umbreon, I get up and go out again, because even hated by the rest of the world, even without my darling Gardy, I have to take care of these five that I have left. I have to find some form of income. Because I fell head over heels in love with them from the beginning, and over my dead body will they ever be sad again.

And because strength isn't how much you can take before you break, it's how much you can take when you're already broken.

* * *

Thus, my first story on here goes. And as for anyone confused by that, I'm Ren, the other person on this account, not Lor who usually writes.

The goal of this was to make you first hate the unnamed character, but then once you know more about her, to pity her. So hopefully that worked.

Thank you for your time!


End file.
